3 AM Stroll
by luvin'-music
Summary: What happens when the flock goes out for a fly at 3 in the morning? Days get mixed up? Clowns becoming burglers? Nudge having a nervous break down? Find out here! Rated K  for, well, scary clowns...
1. What day of the Week is it, Anyway?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. (I do, however, own this stupid computer, which I am going to kill if it doesn't stop losing internest access!)**

"I'm hungry," Nudge whined, her caramel wings flapping in the wind. "And thirsty."

"I'm Friday," Gazzy replied, tired. "Meet the leaders Saturday and Sunday up there, along with Monday beside me, and Tuesday behind me."

"I don't want to be Tuesday," Angel replied, folding her arms. "Everybody always dreads Tuesday. I want to be Saturday."

"But Fang's Saturday!" Gazzy reminded her, pointing to Mr. Midnight.

"Wait, then I'm Sunday?" I asked, looking back at Gazzy. "People don't love Sunday! They have to finish their chores and crap so they can get ready for Monday! I want to be Friday."

"Hey! I'm Monday!" Iggy countered, crossing his arms. "Monday isn't that bad!"

"Yeah, Ig. 'Cause everybody _loves_ the idea of getting up early in the morning," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

Iggy humphed, looking away indignantly.

"Why do you want to be Friday, Max?" Fang asked, changing the subject.

"Because everyone looks forward for Friday. Duh," I replied.

"Oh yeah," Gazzy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "She just wants to be Friday because Fang is Saturday, and she wants to always be close to him."

"I do not!" I replied sharply. "And besides, I was already with Fang before, when I was Sunday!"

"Oh, so you _don't _want to spend more time with me?" Fang asked, faking hurt. "I see how you are. Fine, I'll be Tuesday. That way, Max can be as far away from me as possible."

"I don't want you to not be Saturday!" I exclaimed, realizing that sentence made no sense. Yup, it's three in the morning. "Fine, I'll be freaking Sunday! I don't care!"

"No Max, it's fine," Fang said, still sounding hurt. "We don't have to be next to each other every week. We don't have to be Saturday and Sunday, always together, always back to back. We can always be Friday and Tuesday, two days never meant to meet."

"Oh, for the love of Pete," I muttered under my breath.

"Who's Pete?" Iggy returned, now over his mood. "Hey Fang, I think you should be worried over this 'Pete' character. He might just be Max's new boyfriend."

Fang looked shocked. "Is that true, Max? Are you now dating a guy named Pete?" He glared at me mockingly. "I don't know you anymore," he said in a really chilling voice.

"There is no Pete!" I shouted, crossing my arms. "Gosh!"

"I think she's way too indignant, personally," Iggy commented, shaking his head. "As Shakespeare once said, 'The lady doth protest too much.'"

"How the frick do you know Shakespeare?" I asked.

"Movies," he replied.

"I change my mind," Gazzy said, totally out of the blue. "I want to be Wednesday, not Friday. Wednesday is the middle of the week, and that's cooler than being the second-to-last day of the week."

"Well then, who will be Friday?" Iggy asked.

"We already discussed that," Fang said. "Max is Friday, because she doesn't want to be with me anymore."

"I want to be with you!" I shouted. "Fine, Fang and I will be the weekend, and someone else can be Friday."

"Jeez, Max, you don't have to be forced to love me," Fang said.

"I want us to be back to back!" I screeched.

"Fine, Fang and Max are Saturday and Sunday-"

"I wanna be Saturday," I interrupted Gazzy.

"Oh, come on!" Gazzy said. "Make up your mind! I thought you wanted to be Sunday."

"I said I wanted to be back to back with Fang," I replied. "I want to be Saturday."

"But what if I want to be Saturday?" Fang asked.

"Fang, shut-up or I'll make you Monday," Gazzy warned.

"What is so bad about Monday?" Iggy exclaimed, looking angry.

"It's the most boring day of the week!" Gazzy exclaimed.

"Not with me running it!" he said, looking cool. "If I was Monday, everyone will love it, because everyone loves me!"

"Yeah, right," I snorted in disbelief.

"Hey, I have a lot of Iggy lovers! There are a lot of Fang haters and even a few Max haters, but I've never heard anyone saying, 'Ew, Iggy? He's gross!' or 'Why in the world would I like Iggy?' See? I'm popular!"

"Dang, full of yourself, aren't you?" I asked.

"Only stating the truth."

"Okay," Gazzy interrupted again. "So Nudge is Thursday... Wait, who's Friday?"

"I'll be Friday!" Angel exclaimed. "Just as long as I'm not Tuesday."

"Then who will be Tuesday?"

"This whole conversation is pointless," Nudge mumbled.

"You started it," Gazzy reminded her.

"Did not!" she exclaimed. "All I said was I was hungry and thirsty!"

"Exactly. Thirs-tee and Thurs-day. You should really work on pronouncing your words."

"I'm done with this," she grumbled.

"I say Total is Tuesday," Angel said.

"Where is Total?" I asked.

"Behind me, asleep," Angel said, nodding to a snoozing flying puppy.

"Wait, then how is he flying?" Fang asked.

"Total's flying in his sleep?" Iggy exclaimed. "Dude, fly in front of something white. I've gotta see this!"

"Of course he's flying in his sleep," Angel said. "I'm controlling him."

"You control people in their sleep?" I demanded.

"Only if I have to," she said defensively.

I was about to say something, but from a look from Fang, I let the subject drop. For now.

"Alright, so Nudge is Thursday," Gazzy began again. "Angel is Friday, Max is Saturday, Fang is Sunday, Iggy is the almighty and awesome Monday, Total is Tuesday -hey, that fits!- and I am Wednesday. Any objections?"

We all shook are heads.

"Now that that's all settled," Nudge said, rolling her eyes, "can we go find something to eat, now? I'm still hungry."

**That's it! Please, please publish, stupid thing!**

**Oh, and if it does, please tell me what you think!**


	2. Gotta Love Those Killer Clowns

Here's the next part!

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.

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><p>We landed at McDonald's, one of the only places that still functions at 3:20 in the morning. At least, this one did, so that was good. Nudge looked like she would positively die without something to eat, so we let her order first.<p>

"Let's see, okay, so I'll order the fish sandwich thing, the one with tarter sauce? And I'll also have the really big cheeseburger, with the bun in the middle, too. I'll also have about two double cheeseburgers, and, oh! Maybe one of those snack wrap things! The ranch one, with grilled chicken because fried is not my favorite. I mean, gross, all that grease! So yeah, I'll go with the grilled chicken."

"Will that be it?" the cashier asked, eyes wide.

"Um..." Nudge looked over the menu, making sure she got everything. "You should probably make all of those a meal, medium sized. And I'll take a strawberry banana smoothie! Maybe even a chocolate shake."

"Not this late, missy," I said from behind her, stroking her hair. "Way too much sugar."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. She looked at the cashier. "She still babies me, even though I'm twelve now, not three!" She glared at me, then turned back to the menu. "I guess I'll have a soft drink then, maybe a Coke!"

I cleared my throat behind her.

"Fine," she whined, "a root beer then. Is that okay with you, mom?" She asked me sarcastically.

I nodded, smirking.

The cashier read back her order, then I payed for it.

Angel was next, then it was Gazzy and Iggy, who ordered a surplus supply of cheeseburgers, french fries, and -without my knowing- three chocolate shakes, emanating a whine from Nudge. I glared at them, and promptly gave the shakes back to the cashier, earning Gazzy and Iggy groans. "We were going to share with Nudge!" they whined. I ignored them. Fang ordered his stuff, and I ordered mine, and before we knew it, we were at a table. But the high seat tables, because apparently the seats closer to the floor are for lame-ose, as Gazzy so promptly explained. Whatever.

"You know what's weird?" Gazzy asked, eating a french fry.

"That we're eating at McDonald's at three o' clock in the morning and they still haven't called the cops?" I asked, doing an automatic three-sixty while taking a sip of my lemonade.

"That," he answered, "and the fact that I've been to McDonald's multiple times in my life, and I have never even seen the clown."

"Ew, why would you want to see Ronald McDonald?" Nudge asked, taking a bite of her fish fillet. "Clowns are so creepy!"

"Only if they're serial killers," Iggy said honestly through a mouthful of cheeseburger, earning a growl from me.

"Clowns are serial killers?" Nudge asked, eyes wide.

"Yup," Gazzy said, taking a french fry. "In fact, I think your uncle J is a clown serial killer, Nudge."

"What?" Nudge screamed, eyes wide. "My uncle J is a serial killer? Oh, my gosh, I hope I don't meet my uncle J!"

"Nudge, I highly doubt your uncle J is a clown serial killer," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, Nudge," Iggy said, stuffing his face with fries. Quite the charmer. "I heard that it was your grandpa Pete that was the serial killer. Never trust those Pete fellows, right, Max?" He smirked in my direction.

"My grandpa Pete is a serial killer?" Nudge exclaimed, absolutely panicking.

"Your grandpa Pete is not a serial killer, Nudge!" I said, glaring at Iggy, who was oblivious to it, of course. "No one in your family is, now eat your food."

"I don't think I'm hungry, anymore," she said, putting her sandwich down.

"Oh, my gosh," I murmured. "Iggy, Gazzy, I'm going to kill you."

"Well, you'd never know!" they said, shrugging.

"I mean, jeez, Max," Iggy continued, finding his cheeseburger and opening the wrapper. "Haven't you ever seen 'It', that Steven King movie about the clown? That movie could make anyone believe clowns are evil!"

"Only if you're that gullible," Fang said, sipping his root beer.

"But, every movie and crime show out there all say that clowns are evil!" Nudge said, eyes wide. "I mean, they're always the kidnappers and the creepy dudes with alibis! I hate clowns!"

"Nudge, they're just shows," I said, rubbing my forehead.

"T.V. shows that strive off of actual events," Iggy countered.

"See?" Nudge said, pointing at Iggy. "It's true!"

"Would you shut-up, Iggy?" I snapped, smacking him upside the head. "You're going to make Nudge one of those girls that stays at home all the time, sitting in the fetal position in the corner of the room and mumbling, 'There's no place like home. There's no place like home.' "

"No I won't!" she said.

"If you keep acting this way, yeah, you will."

"Hey, speaking of clowns," Gazzy said, nodding at the door. "There's your grandpa Pete now."

We turned, watching as a clown walked into McDonald's, his big red wig squashed by a cheesy hat with a spin-thing at the top, like a helicopter. Never really had the desire to know what they were called, only that they could probably be used as a valuable weapon, given the right upgrade.

"Oh no." Nudge's voice shook as she bent lower into her seat. "Do you think he saw me?"

"Yeah, Nudge. He's getting his gun from his giant clown boot right no-"

"Shut-up, Iggy!" I demanded, slapping him again. He chuckled while Nudge shook, her wide eyes not leaving the clown. "Jeez, it's going to be so fun getting her to bed tonight," I murmured to Fang, who just chuckled.

Suddenly, our attention was zipped back to the clown. One second, he had walked back to the counter, looking ready to order, and the next he _did _reach down, _did _grab a gun from his boot, and _did _hold a hostage situation. He shouted at us to get down, while motioning the woman to give him the money from the cash register.

I turned to Iggy and Gazzy. "Okay, who hired the clown?"

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><p>Alright, that's it! XD Hope you guys like it!<p> 


	3. How To Make Clowns Mad

**Here's another installment!**

**Comments:**

**flyingboppers1999: Thanks! I'm glad you like it!**

**whocares1313: Thanks! :) **

**maximum ride fang1995: Thank you. I do enjoy being random! XP**

**domo-the-brown-monster: Glad you thought it was funny! Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. Hope you like the new installments!**

**Alright, here's the story!**

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Maximum Ride. Do I _have _to keep putting this up?**

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><p>Things you don't do with me in the room:<p>

Pick your nose (because, really? That's sick)

Science experiments

Watch Barney (or I will seriously have Iggy blow up your television set)

Hold a hostage situation (I thought that was obvious)

For a second, we played along, going on the ground, looking scared. But Fang and I were already looking at each other, planning. I'm sure we both had thought up about a billion different ways to kill the clown without leaving a trace, but we had to wait. Be patient. Then, we could kick his sorry bass and run away. (I know, I am a planner.)

Looking at the clown, I immediately spotted all of his weaknesses. 1) He was definitely a sweater. Sweating means nervous or really excited about something. Always a bad thing. 2) He was shaky. In other words- Definitely not experienced. This was probably his first time. 3) He was a wuss. Fang had stood up, which I didn't plan, and the clown just shook the gun at him, telling him to get back down. He would shoot, but not until he thought it was needed, like if Fang started walking toward him or something.

"Why did you do that?" I whispered quietly so only Fang could hear me.

He shrugged. "Had to check if my hunch was right." He looked back at the clown, now watching as the cashier stuffed bills down a bag. "It was."

"Why is everyone so afraid of him?" I wondered out loud, watching as everyone behind the counter raised their arms nervously, looking terrified. "He's not that scary."

"Maybe there's another one, behind them," Fang said, nodding toward the back. Right then, a man, who was also dressed like a clown, much to Nudge's disdain, walked in, pointing a gun at a guy who looked like a manager. This one was skinnier than bucko the clown, and also a lot more calm, collected. The gun didn't even waver as he held it, and he didn't sweat. He wasn't really nervous.

Not good, but I've dealt with worse.

Feeling that it was time to end this little shin-dig, I stood, walking toward the clowns.

"Max, what are you doing?" Nudge asked, but I ignored her, walking toward the idiots who ruined a perfectly good meal.

The first clown hadn't noticed me, but his friend did, now turning the gun from the manager to aim at me. "Get down, little lady," he said in a heavy southern accent. "I don't want to kill you."

"Funny, I didn't want you to kill me either," I said, crossing my arms. "Now that we're agreed, why don't you leave? I'm a little tired, and I really don't want to kick your butt for being an idiot."

"Listen, little lady," he said, now a little angrier. "This isn't my first rodeo. I've killed pretty girls like you for less. Now, why don't you go and lie back down before I shoot a bullet in your head, okay?"

I stopped halfway to the register, arms still crossed, hip cocked. Hmm, now reader, pop quiz:

**How many times have I ever backed down from a fight?**

Like, once or twice, maybe?

**Good! Now, how many times have I backed away from a fight when there are civilians involved?**

Like, never?

Very good! You get an A!

Now, back to the story.

Without looking, I felt Fang stand behind me, his face no doubt terrifying. His breathing was steady, his back straight, readying for a fight.

The guy smirked. "Boy, I would tell your girlfriend to back down before I shoot you both. Really, all we're here for is a little money! Why turn this into murder?"

"Murder?" I glanced at Fang, who continued watching the clown. "Who are they gonna murder, Fa-?" But I never finished.

Because just then, a shot was fired. By the southern dude. Who was aiming at me.

The jerk just shot at me!

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><p><strong>That's all for now! What did you think? Hope you like it!<strong>


	4. Nudge's Fear Resolved

**Sorry it took so long! For some reason, this wouldn't let me update it...**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

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><p>After that, his day just got a heck of a lot worse.<p>

Fang had anticipated the shot, pushing me down onto the ground just as the bullet whizzed passed our heads, hitting the window behind us, shattering it. Huh, wasn't designed to withstand bullets. Either that, or this was one powerful weapon.

Looking back at the gun, I saw that it was the former.

The southern clown raised his gun, the smoke coming out of it. "Now, that was just an introduction, little lady. Why don't you both just lie down there an-"

But that was as far as he got.

Because right then, Iggy jumped up and spread his wings, using them to jump over the few feet and over the counter, into the southern guy. His gun clattered to the floor as he moved to fight Iggy which, with clown shoes and mask, must not have been easy. Gazzy was right behind him, holding up something square and wiry.

"No!" I shouted, stopping Gazzy. "No bombs, not in this small building! We don't want to kill the workers."

He looked back, seeming to think of that for the first time. Then he put the bomb in his bag and ran to join the fight, kicking the crap out of chubby the clown.

"You alright?" Fang asked in my ear, causing chills to run down my spine despite everything.

I nodded, standing. "What, you think a few clowns are going to scare me?" I smirked at him, putting my hands on my hips.

His eyes lit up for a second, then vanished as a second shot was fired.

We turned in unison, looking at a woman who had grabbed the gun, now holding it over a bleeding clown, a bloody hole in his leg. The clown's face became paler than usual, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't the make-up. Iggy sat on him, keeping him in place.

Gazzy had fatso pinned to the counter, staring wide-eyed at the woman. "Dang," he murmured.

The woman looked shocked for a second, like she had just realized what she had done. She dropped the gun, the sound of it slapping on the floor, right beside Iggy and the clown.

Fang acted immediately, running for it, but was quickly intercepted by Nudge, who had run ahead of him and grabbed for the gun. She snatched it and aimed at the other clown, looking terrified. Fatso the clown stared at the gun, sweat poring down his face. "P-please!" he whimpered, fighting Gazzy, who held him steady. "Please, just let me go! I'm sorry!" The clown started to cry, tears ruining his make-up, making him look like a depressed child who got into her mommy's make-up and had pasted it all over her face, then being scolded for doing so. Yup, definitely a newbie.

Nudge stopped shaking, staring at the clown. She stood straighter, more confident. "I won't shoot you," she said, putting the gun down.

The clown looked relieved, then nervous. "Then, what are you going to do?"

Nudge smiled. "Oh, I'm not going to do anything."

It was then that we heard a sweet little girl voice in the background. "I will."

I turned to see Angel, now back from the restroom, her blonde curls dancing from her head, her blue eyes staring angelically at the scared clown, looking into his eyes. "You don't want to be here."

At first, nothing happened. Then, the clown's eyes clouded over, looking at Angel. "I don't want to be here," he repeated expressionlessly.

"You never wanted to be here," she continued, walking slowly toward the clown.

"I never wanted to be here," he repeated, his eyes empty, dazed.

"Why don't you go and take your friend to the hospital, leave us alone?" she said, smiling. "You don't want to cause anymore trouble."

"I don't want to cause any trouble."

"Gazzy, let go of our friend here," she said, nodding at her brother. "He is now taken care of. Let him go."

Gazzy did so, watching as the clown walked to his friend, who was equally as dazed under Iggy.

"Iggy, you get off of him, too. Not much he can do with a hole in the leg."

Iggy stood up, letting the other clown grab his southern friend, putting his arm around him and helping him out the door. Before they left, Angel said, "Oh, and you never want to do this again. You don't want to cause the trouble."

"Don't want to cause trouble," they droned, leaving the fast-food joint.

And that was it, they were gone.

The workers looked dazed and confused from what they saw. The flock was packing up and ready to leave. Angel did a quick brain wash before leaving, telling them that the shattered window was caused by some hooligans across the street, and not to worry about it. They believed her every word.

Her powers were seriously getting creepy.

Once we were away from the restaurant, Nudge looked at me, her eyes wide. "We should go to McDonald's more often!" she said excitedly.

Of course.

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><p><strong>That's it for this! What did you think?<strong>


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